#fearlessskywalker

     Dark eyes shift once the mask has been removed. There's a flicker of disappointment. Flicker of want. Of desire. He sought so much from the man in front of him. Hoped for so much more from him. Kylo had spent so many nights wondering what his Grandfather was truly like. How he would react to him. Would he be proud of his Grandson trying so desperately to continue his legacy? To build the world that he had once tried to do? Kylo sets his mask down beside him, so careless yet so careful. There's a look that settles in his dark gaze. Mixed between curiosity and fear. Fear that swallows deep. No Sith has fear in their heart. No Sith struggles from such a human emotion. "Grandfather." He speaks, only to shake his head, a small sense of a smirk that dances as a ghost over his lips. How could he be so careless with such spoken words. "No. My Grandfather was Darth Vader. My mentor. The one person I wanted to look up to. To make proud in my family." Another pause and he takes a step forward, the Force pulsing through him, lulling him. The darkness flickering and fading in the light as he moves toward the man. "But I have surpassed you." Kylo's voice darkens, leather gloved fingers twitch, longing for the one thing, the only belonging he owns, that feels like home to him, his lightsaber. "I have become the Supreme Leader and people will fear me."

what remained of the jedi and other force sensitives had been incredibly difficult to find in their time, though it had been one of the main tasks that the knights of ren had taken on after kylo joined them, from snoke’s influence. here, it was easy. after arriving to coruscant, they had spent an entire day just watching the temple, half in awe, half in horror. they dressed similarly,  neutral tones and robes, undoubtedly concealing their lightsabers. her own reptilian cape kept half of hers covered, though the blaster was still in plain sight on their right hip. 

padmé had not been hurt in the actual explosion itself, but instead, caught up in the aftermath. while helping pull people out of the wreckage, she had stayed longer than she would have ever guessed on the forest moon after the conference had ended.

there was little more horrifying than to stand in one’s own mausoleum. padmé felt as though she needed to see it, to know that it was real, that all of it was real... and that it had been there for over twenty years from what she had read. twenty years. she remembered going to mustafar to confront anakin after the horrible things that obi-wan had told him, the sorrow in his eyes when she confirmed the lineage of the child that she had carried... a child that, as far as she knew, had never had a chance to live. there’d been images of the funeral, visibly pregnant and the japor snippet anakin had given her as a child in hand.

she had contemplated her own death when anakin had confided in her about the nightmares that he was having, despite the ache to reassure him that it would be fine, that they were just bad dreams. it had never been like this. she should have been cremated, her ashes spread in the river – that was tradition for a woman such as herself. she did not know why tradition had been cast aside, instead, allowing herself to stare at a beautifully-done stain glass window, the image of herself.

though the mausoleum was empty for a moment, padmé still felt the urge to pull the hood of her robe over her face a little further, shadowing the upper half of her face. for only a brief moment, she placed her hand on top of the cold stone. it must have been empty inside. she had to hope.

the privacy of naboo was wonderful, no matter how limited their time there might have been. padmé had been thankful when anakin had been granted permission to escort her back to naboo, even if they both knew the jedi council would not have approved what had happened next: a quiet wedding to be shared between the two of them and no more. it wouldn’t be long before they had to return to coruscant and the duties that they owed to the republic, to try and end the war that had begun on naboo. the scars on her back are still fresh from the arena, her fingers interlaced with cool metal of his new hand. it was only the beginning of many changes to come.

Zeb liked to think he had a keen eye, especially when it came to spotting the kinds of things others tried to sweep under the rug. Like the children tending the fathier stables—kids that clearly weren’t making much of a wage, or more likely none at all. Zeb noticed someone else looking the same direction.  “Noticed them too, huh?”

@fearlessskywalker​   |||   “ekkreth;” continued from x.

"...ekkreth. yourself?" his eyes never left their form wondering the first move.